


Sexy Lioness

by DancingCharmer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Dating, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingCharmer/pseuds/DancingCharmer
Summary: Merrill and Carver have longed for each for a long time. An interesting dream encourages Merrill to act on her feelings. Awkwardness ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollyand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/gifts).



She slides her breasts against his chest. The hard tips of her nipples run along his chest, and throat, and face. A tingle rushes down her spine and heat pools between her thighs, like fire. She curls her fingers into his dark locks and presses his face into her small, delicate breasts. Lovingly, she presses her body against him.

They are lying together on her little cot. When he shifts, the bed creaks under their weight. There is no light, but with her elven eyes Merrill can make him out in the inky darkness. He is so beautiful, so cute. She nibbles on the shell of his ear. She wants his attention. Wants to be the only thing in the world that exists to him. Wants his eyes boring into her, pinning her down. And she wants his hands doing that too. Wants him holding her hips down on the bed as he pants and covers her with his heavy weight and gives her his everything.

After a moment of silent and careful consideration, he turns towards her, and he wraps his big hands around her hips and pulls her into his lap. His masculine, thick fingers are rough and calloused from sword work, and he lovingly runs the rough pad of his thumb across her flat tummy. She shudders at his touch, and somehow, her nipples swell further. He leans close, eyes staring into hers. So passionate, as usual.

His eyes are a dark blue, desire swirling in the depths like lightning.

“Carver,” she whispers longingly. She can’t help it.

He opens his mouth in response, but instead of saying anything, he wraps his lips around one taut nipple. She twitches, and forces herself not to gasp. She’s going to break apart, shatter. His touch, his mouth, is so gentle and delicate. He’s unraveling her. Heat is dripping between her thighs and the elf barely has enough self-control to stop herself from grinding into his groin. She wants to, she wants to so badly...but she wants to take things slowly. Wants to savor his touch, his scent, his very movement.

The Templar moves one arm, and wraps it tightly around her waist as he begins to tease her nipple with his tongue and teeth. He is wet and rough, yet gentle too. Every so often he teases her with a little nibble, teeth grazing her nipple, and a tiny shard of pain shoots through her and she moans. But then he swirls his tongue around the nub, sucking sensually, and the pain dissipates. All the while, he is moving his thumb back and forth against her belly, and each movement of the digit makes her slicker and better prepared to give herself to him.

He lets go of her nipple with a soft “pop.” It’s glistening with his saliva, and he admires his handiwork with his dark blue eyes and gives her a gentle smile. His smile becomes a grin when he noticed the redness of her cheeks, neck, and chest. He moves his rough, hot thumb, and brushes it against the twitching tip of her well-loved breast.

She jerks, and wraps her thin arms around his head. “Carver! Oh, Creators!”

He says nothing. His eyes meet hers and he nods in approval. She has permission now and she needs it. Desperately, the elf pushes her soaked smalls aside. Her thighs are sticky with her arousal. His erection makes a tent in his undergarments, and she hastily tugs them down. She wants to unveil him. Despite wanting to, for some reason she is too eager to stop and admire him as planned. To stroke him, and feel him in her hand. Instead, as if not under her control, her body lowers itself until his member is right about to enter. But just as she is about to sit down upon him and take him inside her, something changes.

The bed shudders and creaks under their weight, as if threatening to break. She is alarmed. She pities herself suddenly. Was her house in such disrepair, her _ bed  _ in such disrepair that it was going to break the first time they consummated their love? A tear comes to her eye, and her face is flushed with embarrassment. She wants to apologize to him. But when she opens her mouth nothing comes out. She squeezes her eyes shut, and the bed creaks again like a shrieking banshee. A strange noise, almost like…the breeze? But she was so sure it was coming from her cot.

With a gasp Merrill opens her eyes.  _ Really  _ opens her eyes. For a moment, she is confused. She lies there, panting, her body in a state of turmoil. She is hot…sweltering, in fact. Not only that but her breasts are sensitive, and between her legs she throbs with a very insistent need that is impossible to ignore. The elf is definitely in her cot, and it’s certainly not broken. And Carver is most  _ definitely  _ not there.

She’s in the Alienage all right. Very alone, and very  _ very _ wet.

“Kitten, you aren’t looking so good...” Isabela is, as usual, very attentive despite looking absent-minded. Her amber eyes are glinting knowingly, dangerously, and she chugs down her ale. She shakes her head and lets out a pleased sound.  Merrill, preoccupied with trying to figure out whether or not the pirate was bluffing in their poker game, is alarmed. Her huge green eyes widen, and she blushes deeply at the memory of her rather...odd dream. Awkwardly, the elven woman clears her throat and shifts in her seat. She shakes her head as if denying an accusation, or shooing away an annoying fly.

“No I’m...” She trembles, “I am just fine, Isabela. Couldn’t be better!”

“Mhm,” Isabela narrows her eyes suspiciously, and she takes another swig of ale. “No offence, my little kitten, but I don’t believe you. As always, you are a  _ terrible  _ liar.”

“Alright, if you’re going to force it out of me,” Merrill blurts, and before she can stop herself… “I want to make love with Carver!”

Whatever response Isabela was expecting,  _ that  _ apparently wasn’t it because the beautiful pirate does a spit take and her amber eyes become wide as plates. For a moment, there is a swollen silence hanging in the air. Still saying nothing, Isabela swallows and slowly, and  _ very _ awkwardly takes another swig of ale.

“So…first of all, I wasn’t forcing anything out of you, sweetheart. If I were to do so, I’d coax the answer out of you with more than words.” Merrill blushes when Isabela winks at her. She very much understands what is being implied. Flirtatious, and harmless, as always. “Secondly…” The pirate’s plump lips spread into a smile. “Secondly, maybe you  _ will  _ sleep with him! After all, you certainly said it loud enough that Carver probably heard you in the gallows.” Isabela gives her a shit-eating grin, and giggles devilishly.

Merrill is red as an apple. She doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything. She buries her face in her hands. Isabela smirks knowingly.

“And I wasn’t aware you were the type of girl to take a man to bed without even going on a first date. Shame on you, Merrill!”

Somehow, the elves face grew redder. Merrill is well aware that Isabela is teasing. She withdrew into herself and when she spoke her voice was but a squeak. “I-I know! I just…” She went silent. Isabela sat there, watching her in what seemed to be great amusement. Merrill’s emerald eyes flicked around cautiously, “Last night I…had a dream.”

Isabela nodded in understanding. “Last night, I also had a dream. There were two strapping young men. One looked just like Hawke and the other…almost certainly looked like Fenris. I was on my hands and knees and- “

“ _ Isabela,” _ Merrill interrupted, her voice becoming shrill from embarrassment. No doubt, Isabela hadn’t just dreamed it the night before. It had probably actually happened! Not for the first time, Merrill was painfully envious of the very seductive pirate. The elf probably seemed so dull in comparison. She had very few sexual experiences, and none of them went beyond some over-the-clothes fondling with her old friend Mahariel, a very beautiful girl. So her experience with sex was practically nonexistent, and her experience with men was  _ literally  _ nonexistent! “Bela, I’ve never had a dream like this! It’s been on my thoughts all morning and I can’t get it to go away. “Be serious, please!”

Isabela grins cheekily. “What do you want me to say, sweets? You had a wet dream, and you want to get laid. There’s nothing to it. The only thing that’ll make your fantasies go away is fulfilling them.” The dark skinned woman raised a brow, grinning.  

Merrill sighed and buried her face in her arms. “How… _ pointless.  _ I wish I never dreamt it.”

Isabela clasped her hand. “Kitten, you underestimate yourself. If you want to sleep with Carver, I’m sure all you really have to do is…ask. You know?” Merrill does not, in fact, know. Isabela, as if sensing her negative thoughts, sighs. She squeezed the elf’s hands in her own, and smiled. “You’re not just a kitten. You’re a…lioness? Yes. A lioness. A sexy one.” Merrill stared back at her, attentive. Isabela went silent after a moment. “Yes so you’re a…sexy lioness and he is…” She trailed off. “Okay the point is Merrill you’re a hot, tight little thing and he nearly gets his rocks off looking at you so why would he not bed you?”

Merrill blinked. “Well I don’t want to just sleep with him, Isabela! I want to…you know, marry him…and other things.”

Isabela blanched. “Marriage? Marriage…with Carver?  _ You  _ and Carver…”

The elf blushed, looking peeved. “What’s wrong with that?”

“You mean other than the fact that you’re a blood mage, no offense, and he’s a bloody templar?”

Merrill pouted, and worried her bottom lip. Isabela sighed gently, and removed her hand from Merrill’s. “I knew you liked him, didn’t know you loved him.” The slender elf slid a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well…” She began, “There are probably a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“The fact that you’re having wet dreams about my lover’s brother is not one of them,” Isabela chuckled. “I imagine the rest I don’t know is rather unexciting in comparison.” Merrill didn’t know how to respond, so she just shrugged. Isabela stood, and kissed her on the top of the head. “Well my kitten, I’m going to go turn  _ my  _ fantasy into a reality. I suggest you do the same.”

Easier said than done.

The issue was that Carver was _ so _ cute. So unique. The man was the polar opposite of his older brother Garrett, who was a surprisingly rugged mage. He was so charismatic that Merrill, doe-eyed, had developed a crush on him when they first met. Which quickly passed because honestly, Garrett Hawke was an asshole. That’s where the wonderful traits of Carver started to stand out.

Hidden in his brother’s shadow was a very wonderful man.

Carver was…awkward, and big. Never clumsy with a sword, but somehow clumsy with everything else. He was witty in his own way, sarcastic, always negative. His self-hatred was astounding, his jealousy of his older brother more so. Despite all that, he had the kindest, gentlest soul Merrill had ever seen in a man, or human. And his eyes were _ breathtakingly  _ beautiful.

She’d known for a long time that Carver had some form of feelings for her. At first, she had been offended. Carver insisted she was “different” than the other girls. She thought maybe he meant literally. That the only thing that stuck out to him was the fact that she was an elf. Pair that with the fact that he was a jerk to basically everyone, and she felt…fetishized. But it was more than that, what Carver felt for her. She didn’t know why, but she knew that. He made her feel safe. The main reason being that Carver was a templar, and despite looking down on her use of blood magic, despite his fear of it…he had never turned her in.

Despite that, she really didn’t know him much. He didn’t like talking about himself. But Merrill desperately wanted to. The dream had been amazing, actually. Merrill wanted that, to feel the touch of his skin, his muscles against her body. But first, she wanted to hold his hand. To kiss him. To talk to him…

Merrill walked, in a daze, through Hightown. She hoped to find Garrett. If anyone knew how to talk to Carver, and start something with him it was his brother. As usual, eyes latched onto her as she walked. And they were not lustful gazes, or even admiring. She was not Isabela. She was Merrill. She had helped get the Qunari out of the city, but to the citizens of Kirkwall she was nothing more than dirt. The staff on her back made it painfully obvious she was a mage, and her pointed ears and tattoos made it obvious she was not just an elf…but a Dalish Elf. A proud elf.

So they hated her.

Humans were like that. Carver wasn’t…

Not for the first time that morning, Merrill wondered if what she was doing was a terrible idea. Trying to ask Carver out, get into a relationship - and then hopefully bed- with him. Who knew if Carver was actually interested in her? Sure, they flirted and his eyes watched her hips when she walked and when their bodies touched for even a second he blubbered like a fool, but that didn’t necessarily mean the younger Hawke  _ wanted  _ her. Especially not romantically. Perhaps he just wanted to sleep with her! Perhaps he wasn’t good with girls! After all, he blushed at Isabela too!

“Right then,” Merrill abruptly turned around. She’d go home, go to sleep, and forget this entire ignorant idea. He was a human; she was an elf. He was a templar and she was a mage. A blood mage. They wouldn’t make a very good couple. The elf stopped, eyes narrowed.

Where the heck was she? She cursed when she realized she did not have her yarn with her when she went to the Hanged Man that morning. Human cities were so big and confusing. Like their men, Merrill realized. She giggled at the thought. She sighed as she searched around with her eyes, trying to find a familiar sight. Everything in this city looked the same! She bit her bottom lip, before shrugging. If she kept walking she had to make it somewhere eventually. In theory.

Find something she did. Sights started becoming familiar to her.  Yes, that was the Blooming Rose and there was one of the many exits from Hightown! Relief flowed through her. Then, her eyes widened, when someone  _ very familiar  _ stepped out of the Blooming Rose. A man, much taller than her, with dark hair hanging down to his shoulders. His bright blue eyes were twinkling, and he was grinning like a fool.

She didn’t remember moving, but in the next second she was in front of him.

“M-Merrill?!”

“Hello Carver,” she greeted pleasantly, though for some reason, she was feeling rather irritable.  Something about the way his beautiful blue eyes were glazed over with satisfaction. And there was of course, the slowness of his movement and his speech. He behaved like a man who had recently made love. And it…bothered her. Because she was dreaming of him, thinking of him and he was…in a whore house.

She was no fool. She knew exactly what went on in this filthy place.

She took satisfaction in the fact that Carver was bright, cherry red. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m…doing templar research. I mean, an investigation…I’m doing…stuff,” he explained, rubbing the back of his head.

“Busy work, is it,” she asked, green eyes twinkling, “you sure are sweating a lot…”

He cleared his throat with a cough. “Yep! Very busy work…Erhm…Right then. I should go report to my officer.” He began to walk away.

_ I’m a sexy lioness. _

“Would you like to do some templar research in my home,” she asked.

The younger Hawke went absolutely still. He didn’t even twitch. For a solid minute. Then, slowly, he turned around to gaze at her. His face was pure red, his eyes two blue crystals among all that red. His mouth was hanging open. “M-Merrill?” His voice broke, and it reached a very high octave.

_ I’m a sexy lioness! _

“I’m not stupid, Carver. I know what kind of research you were doing in there.”

He buried his face in his hands, obviously humiliated. “Shit,” he whispered. She realized that perhaps the front of the Blooming Rose wasn’t the best place for this kind of discussion. The elf gently touched his shoulder and now he twitched, and his eyes met hers. “Merrill did you just offer-“

“I didn’t offer anything,” Merrill cut in quickly, then realizing she had basically suggested they have sex, she continued in a hurried manner. “I mean I did, but I said that just to get your attention. I didn’t actually mean you should do templar research, whatever that is, at my house. Though I do have some interesting things in my home that your templars would probably be very interested in. But what I was trying to say is that  _ you  _ should do the research that you did in the Blooming Rose on me. By that I mean, the  _ not  _ research you were doing in there, you should do to me. Unless you were actually doing research, in which case, I’m horrendously embarrassed. I mean, you  _ could possibly  _ be undercover like some of the guardsmen in Varric’s stories.” He watched her in complete silence, mouth slowly sliding shut, and his head cocked to the side as more and more words fell from her mouth. “And I didn’t really mean I want you to… _ you know,  _ dirty things with me. Though I do eventually. What I mean to say is that I only offered that to get your attention, because I want to maybe do something with you. But not those types of things. I mean, dirty things eventually, I’ve been thinking about doing all kinds of that stuff with you lately, but I was talking about I don’t know picking flowers, or eating dinner together, or walking the hound together some night or-“

“I, uh, get it…” Carver interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Right,” Merrill agreed, also terribly embarrassed now. Creators, why did she have to blabber so much! Why was it so hard to get what she wanted to say out?

“Um…I am also interested in doing things with you,” he murmured after a moment, looking down at her with a blush.

“But not dir-“

“Not dirty things,” He interrupted, “right.”

They both stood silently. Merrill, with her hands clasped behind her back, Carver with his arms across his chest. They just _stood_ there like fools, neither quite knowing what to say next. They had just had a very long conversation in front of a brothel, or rather Merrill had had a very long conversation with him and he had just stood there. “So...my next day off is…” he thought. “In three days. Would you maybe, like to join me? For the day?”

“That would be lovely,” she chirped happily, and he cleared his throat.

“I’d like to walk you home… I’m assuming the reason you’re here of all places is because you were lost?”

Merrill nodded, smiling wide. For a moment, he did nothing. Her smile fell from her face when she realized he was staring at her. Eyes flickering from head to foot, analyzing everything. Deep blue…Her face heated, her belly heated. She felt like she was naked before his very serious gaze. “Maker, you’re so beautiful. This isn’t another dream…you’re seriously asking me out…?”

Smiling, and bowing her head, she murmured, “I am… though the setting isn’t very ideal, is it?” She glanced back at the Blooming Rose with an annoyed expression. He gave her an apologetic glance.

“And…umm, when you said you’d been thinking about dirty things…and you were thinking about me…” He trailed off hopefully.

Merrill again glared at the whore house. “I think you should have different priorities if I’m going to be frank.”

Carver, bashful, looked ashamed “Right then. So…walking you home. Let’s get to it then…”

  



End file.
